


Fix Me

by iamee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Clothed Sex, Dubious Consent, Filthy, First Time, Heat makes Derek smooth, M/M, Marking, Multiple Sex Positions, No Spoilers, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Scents & Smells, Seriously so much dirt, Sort of in Heat, This is not how you fix a car, Unsafe Sex, and a bit of an asshole, because logic, outside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 12:24:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamee/pseuds/iamee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has a car. Stiles is (sort of) happy to fix it.<br/>Derek is (sort of) in heat. Stiles is just there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fix Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caylar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caylar/gifts).



> So I found this sitting on my computer because sometimes I write porn and then forget about it. Still in the middle of catching up with Season 3, therefore this fic exists in some limbo. Enjoy!

**Fix Me**

 

"Should be working now." Stiles' head appeared from underneath the car as he pushed himself out into the fresh air. Well, fresh was an understatement. It had been raining for days and Stiles doubted that air could get much fresher and cleaner than this. He looked up at Derek, wiping a hand across his forehead when he felt sweat trickling down from his hair. Gross. "I still don't see why you couldn't do it yourself. Does being broody prevent you from fixing things?"

Derek stared at him for a moment, eyes dark and his expression unreadable. Then he abruptly walked around the car, sticking his arm in through the opened door and starting the engine. It purred to life and Stiles gave a sigh of relief. What was worse than driving all the way out in the woods to patch up a werewolf's car? Exactly, not being able to patch it. Meanwhile Derek had turned the engine off and begun to let the car down into the mud again. It was basically a silent invitation for Stiles to leave if he wished to do so. He wished very much to do so, but hey, when had that ever prevented him from opening his mouth?

"You know," he said, walking over to where Derek was busy. "This is the moment where you shower me in gratitude and tell me I did a good job." Derek didn't even look up. "Not that there is anything wrong with your version of gratitude." Stiles continued. "I'm just saying it needs... improvement." Derek tilted his head, frowning. Stiles leaned against the car, hands drawing circles into the air. "For example, let's say I – just from the top of my head, you know? – come to help you repair your car when I should be studying History. Then you say...?"

"I get it, Stiles."

"No, silly. You say 'Thank you so much, Stiles. Not going to kill you in the near future'. And I reply 'That's nice, Derek'."

Derek's frown had deepened but at least Stiles had his attention. His undivided attention to be exact. Dark eyes were gliding over his face and body like a touch and Stiles found his face heating. He had to look an absolute mess. Mud on his clothes and oil on his hands, his hair ruffled by his fingers and the sweater he had taken off before going underneath the car. He licked his lips, watching Derek push himself up from the ground like a tiger making ready for a jump. What a helpful comparison, thank you, brain.

"Y-you say 'I underestimated your value, Stiles' and I go 'Damn right, Derek'. You..." Stiles instinctively backed off against the car as Derek approached. Old habits died hard. "You should try it. I promise it gets easier." He didn't know why he was still taking but he didn't seem to be able to stop. "But for today it's fine. Just... just giving you some advice on how to handle these awkward social situations. Not that there is anything awkward here, I----"

Derek was close now, so close that Stiles could smell him and he pressed closer to the car.

"Stiles." Derek interrupted him and Stiles blinked.

"Yes?"

Derek's voice was calm but there was something in between the words, a simmering tension, barely hidden and Stiles' cheeks burned hotter.

"Thank you." Derek said, stepping closer, his hands meeting the car's side and trapping Stiles in the space in between. "And also shut up."

Stiles took a breath, lips closing, pressing together to stop further words from blubbering over them. Derek was so close, he had to tilt back his head in order to look him in the eye. Not that that was a good idea. Not even remotely.

"You stink." Derek said, leaning in nevertheless, his nose almost brushing the spot between Stiles' shirt and his collarbone. Stiles heard him inhaling, felt his breath damp on the fabric and he froze. Hands pressed to the car, his whole body trying to vanish, melt into the metal because there was no way his face could feel any hotter. Or so he had thought.

"Rude..." Stiles managed to croak out when he couldn't take it any longer, just as Derek's hands moved closer, planting themselves next to his hips, his nose on Stiles' throat. He was breathing, inhaling, fast, still seeming to search for something and then he gave a growling sound at the back of his throat that caused the small hairs on Stiles' neck to stand up, a shiver running up and down his spine.

"Why didn't you leave, Stiles?"

"You w-want me to leave?" Stiles said, even though Derek's uttering hadn't been a real question.

"It's a little late for that." Derek's finger brushed his side and Stiles almost jumped. His heart was racing, pumping blood through his body in thick, heavy flows, clouding his mind as it travelled South. Oh god. Like this wasn't bad enough already...

"D-derek." Stiles felt the metal hard against the back of his head. But every inch he tried to back off only gave Derek more space to step into. By now their chests were almost flush against each other, Derek's breath on his skin hot and fast, like he was trying real hard to keep himself from... yeah from what exactly? It wasn't like he wasn't in Stiles' comfort zone already, intimidating the shit out of him and smelling him, covering him like Stiles belonged to him. And damn, that shouldn't make him harder, but oh it did. So Stiles shifted again, struggling, trying to get Derek to back off before he could become aware of his... situation, but of course it was no use. Stiles eyes snapped wide open the second he felt the hint of teeth on his throat, Derek's hand pressing up to his waist.

"I think I need you to stay."

"What the fuck, Derek?" Stiles rasped, fingers curling to fists by his sides. "What are you doing?"

"Thanking you?" Derek mouthed along his throat, tracing his throbbing pulse with his tongue. Stiles laughed weakly, his boxers growing tighter with every passing second.

"Th-that's not how I showed you to do it."

He felt Derek's smile against his skin: "My bad."

He continued licking his way up to Stiles' jaw, beard stubble scratching soft skin. "Your scent... there is too much else on you."

Oil. Mud. His deodorant. Stiles shuddered involuntarily, eyes closing again.

"Is... is this a wolf-compliment thing? Telling me I smell and--- " he interrupted himself with a low moan, Derek's hand having slipped to his hip, fingertips pressing into his jeans, so close to his now undeniable problem. Stiles felt his ears heating, biting his lip hard. Derek paused, somewhere near his ear, taking breaths, his body so warm against Stiles, so warm it seemed impossible.

"Let's call it bad timing." Derek growled, pushing a leg between Stiles' thighs, eyes flickering red for a split second.

Stiles gasped, throwing back his head and meeting the car with a 'thunk'. It hurt, stars dancing behind closed eyelids, but the pain was immediately replaced by a shiver of arousal when Derek rolled his hips against his, friction making him cry out and his hands reaching out, resting on Derek's shoulders.

"You should have walked away." Derek breathed hotly into his ear before he crushed their mouths together, none too softly, Stiles' lips parted easily under his, Derek's tongue pushing them further apart. He caught Stiles' bottom lip between his own, sucking on it, and Stiles groaned, his legs spreading before he had time to think this through. Bad bad bad bad. It was the only thing resounding in his mind and it didn't lead to any coherent thought. Derek's fingers worked open his zipper, pushing, pulling, fumbling inside until he was stroking over his clothed cock, cupping him through his boxers and Stiles nearly bit his tongue.

"F-fuck, Derek!"

Stiles was used to thinking and voicing a whole lot of what was going through his mind but now, as Derek's hand slipped inside his boxers, fingers wrapping around him, stroking urgently, uncaring of the noises Stiles made in response, he found only blackness, incoherent sounds falling from his lips.

"Stiles..." Derek groaned into his neck, sniffing, searching for his buried scent, hand letting go of him only to push down his trousers and boxers. Stiles felt them pooling around his ankles, dimly aware of the fact that he was getting naked in the forest with an Alpha, but it wasn't even close to be something he could voice. The air was cool on his skin, even more so when he was lifted up, Derek's hands curling around his hips, his body pressing forward. Stiles gave a surprised sound, but wrapped his naked legs around Derek's hips nevertheless. By instinct, to get closer, who knew? And it was wonderful, the amount of friction it caused nearly overwhelming.

"Derek Derek De..." Stiles babbled, rolling down his hips as far as he could in this position, feeling Derek hard against him, his bulge pressing into his ass and he whined because as good as it felt, it made him only aware of how it wasn't enough.

Derek murmured something between his teeth, moving his hand, inching back so there was space between them and Stiles shook his head, eyes opening under heavy lids, protest readily on his lips. But then there were fingers spreading him, Derek's other hand digging into his hipbone as he tried to keep him up. A thumb circling around the ring of muscles and Stiles couldn't hold back a startled cry, his hands fisting into Derek's jacket.

"Ohgod oh Derek fuck oh fuck!"

"You. Were. Supposed. To. Go. Home." Derek snarled, pressing further inside with every word, his voice barely resembling a human one.

Stiles' back arched, the heels of his boots digging into Derek's ass when their grip tightened. His face felt like he was on fire, his mouth hanging open, lips swollen and red.

"Uh..."

And then Derek's mouth was on his own again, so hot and wet, it robbed Stiles of the last breath left in his lungs. And all the while fingers were pushed in and out of him, first one, the two, prodding, searching, opening him up to something he couldn't wrap his hushed mind around without coming undone then and there. With nothing but Derek's shirt brushing his painfully hard cock. Stiles pulled away from the kiss, turning his head and gulping in air but not before long he was whimpering, panting, begging Derek for moremoremore despite the pain, the dryness that made him wince and his toes curl. He had started rolling his hips again, and Derek pushed, knuckle-deep inside of him and the world turned black for a moment.

He blinked rapidly, his bared throat covered in teeth marks, some deep enough to feel blood pulsating just beneath the surface, ready to spill. It seemed to heighten his scent, the closeness of it causing Derek to make hungry noises, burying his face in the crook of Stiles' neck, licking, biting, drinking in the sweet mixture of his sweat and the scent, arousal heavy and dark on his tongue.

Derek pressed even closer, all noise from his throat like that of an animal, his fingers slipping in and out of Stiles more and more impatiently. Stiles' fingers were numb already on Derek's shoulder, his bottom lip torn from teeth and there was a jolt, a thunder through his body every single time the tips of Derek's fingers brushed a spot inside of him that would have him screaming was there any air left in his lungs.

And suddenly there was nothing, not even the grip on his hip and Stiles slumped down, leaning heavily to the car's side, his knees weak and his heart pounding. He felt dizzy, his eyesight blurry, but he could make out that Derek was undoing his belt, opening his zipper and Stiles licked his lips, their gaze meeting.

"Y-you knew you'd be like this and still you called me?"

Derek stepped in again, trousers pushed down and his cock hard against Stiles' smooth thigh: "Like I said, bad timing."

He sounded like it hurt to form words from a throat that wanted to growl and howl, between teeth that wanted to tear apart. Stiles swallowed hard, shuddering all over and he gasped when Derek stroked him again, making sure he was leaking precome before he lifted him up, sliding between his legs all too easily.

"Do you want to leave?" Derek whispered hoarsely, his eyes flashing between red and dark, his hands like fire on Stiles' skin and the tip of his cock already pressing inside, making Stiles throw back his head and give a needy sob.

"No-oh!"

"Stiles..."

"Stay stay I want to stay!" Stiles panted, writhing in his grip, rolling his hips and Derek groaned, pushing further inside, inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt, his knuckles turning white around Stiles' slim hips.

Stiles sobbed, fingernails almost ripping through the leather of the jacket, his legs quivering and his spine a curve, ready to snap if he arched any harder. He had crossed his ankles, legs locked around Derek's hips, keeping himself pushed up against the car. He was breathing like he feared to suffocate, tears hot in his lashes from the blinding white pain that coursed through him until it slowly turned into a dull ache. He was so full, so stretched, feeling it all so intensely since he was pushed down by his own weight, planted firmly on Derek's cock. And Derek began to move, thrust into him in small, deep motions, grunting something Stiles couldn't make out through the haze that was his immediate reality.

"Oh please please!" He panted, eyes opening and a shudder going through him, so close to the edge, he could practically feel his orgasm burning its way through his insides.

"Derek." Stiles couldn't keep himself from repeating his name, over and over, his tongue like a weird, foreign thing in his mouth.

Derek gave a sound, partly threat, partly arousal, pulling out and dragging Stiles to the muddy ground, turning him so he was facing his own hands, stemmed into the dirt and he had time to moan in frustration before Derek thrust in again, grabbing his hip roughly, other hand fisting in his hair and pulling until Stiles' eyes watered again, leaning into the touch and arching his back, hips jerking as Derek sped up, slamming into him, every thrust meeting that fucking incredible spot. Stiles whimpered, begged, cursed. All was a mixture of bliss and pain, too good to fucking care about the soreness he'd doubtlessly feel in the morning.

"Derek D-Derek fuck DEREK!!"

Derek's response was a growl, long-drawn and letting Stiles' blood boil in his veins. Briefly the thought flashed trough his mind what they had to look like. Rutting on the ground like dogs, splattered in mud and motor oil, Derek taking him like he made a claim. Stiles groaned, biting his bleeding lip but the sharp pain was dulled by the sheer pleasure that burned under his skin and tucked at the outskirts of his mind. Derek hadn't touched his cock again and Stiles had no doubt even the softest of touches would make him fall over the edge. His chest was heaving, he tasted salt on his lips, his arms trembling from the effort to keep himself up. Derek had acquired something resembling a rhythm. Pulling out almost all the way only to slam in again, setting off the wish in Stiles that it would never end. He could smell himself, he could smell Derek. Sweat and saliva and precome smeared over skin. The faint scent of blood. It created something so dense, so intoxicating. Mostly it made Stiles cry out because there were no more words.

"Mine." Derek moaned between his shoulder blades and the moment Stiles' mind caught up with the fact that it wasn't just another unintelligible sound, his entire body tensed, he felt himself clenching around Derek hard enough to see stars, his breath hitching as his release mingled with the mud on the ground, everything freezing for a perfect second of overwhelming bliss.

Derek's movements grew smaller, slowing down, but they didn't stop for a second. Stiles could barely keep himself up, his whole body drained from his orgasm, limbs weak and he whined when Derek's cock brushed his insides, pleasure flickering through him before recovery. He wanted, he needed but it was nearly too much. And then Derek pulled out, wrapping hands around him and pushing him onto his back. Stiles gave a small protest, but sunk down, relieved to be able to rest his arms and legs. It would be hard to explain the state of utter filth he was in, but right now in this very moment, how could he care? Derek hovered about him, spreading Stiles' legs with warm hands, guiding himself between his thighs, still hard and his pupils blown. When he entered him again, Stiles head fell back, a silent 'oh' on his lips.

It seemed endless now. A never-ending series of thrusts and sparks of arousal his body couldn't quite process yet. Derek had hoisted his legs up, allowing him to push inside at an angle that made them gasp and groan, burying himself inside completely with every thrust, and the burn that was ripping through Stiles was mind-numbing. He was clawing at Derek's back, whining and pleading for more again even if he knew he couldn't possibly take more. He shook under each movement, worrying his lip between his teeth. It felt good still, amazing even but oh god he would die if it went on for much longer. Derek's hands held him in place, almost soothing him with their touch while the motions of his hips were increasingly rough and hard. He was panting, rolling his hips down against Stiles and his head fell back, mouth opening as he stilled, pulling him incredibly close. Stiles shut his eyes, whimpering as pure, wet heat filled him, his cheeks burning in exhaustion and embarrassment. Derek leaned down, kissing the noises off his lips, pressing into him and riding out his orgasm.

 

 

"Thank you." Derek said, much later, trough the dimness of a room and the waves of sleep that were dragging Stiles down, the mattress sighing as Derek pulled him into his arms, breath hot on his neck.

"Again...?" Stiles sounded small and pathetic, even to himself, and the only answer was a breathy laugh.

 

This would be a long weekend.

 

**The End**


End file.
